The Delhi Chapter : Page 3

After a long, arduous day of hyperactivity, I slowly sank my head into my cushy pillow.

Tomorrow was my big day, I thought. 

I was to live with my uncle and aunt in Gurgaon for the next three months in their spacious 4 bedroom apartment.

And train in Ogilvy and Mather.

The best ad agency in the world.

That was the only thing I knew then.
The only agenda I'd come to Delhi with.

Without having a crumb of an idea.

About the geography of the city.
Or my future plans.

****

I was never moved or speechless or exultant or excited about being in Delhi.

Never. [ Aside of course, from the fact that I'd got an opportunity to train in an Ogilvy! ]

Despite (now thinking on hindsight) there being enough things about the city,

which would want you to never need to go anywhere else to find a life.
Really.

One of the reasons could be, perhaps, because Delhi found me at a time when I was sandwiched between my roots and wings.

I’d lived and studied in Bombay (the best years of my life).
And wanted to stay back and work and perhaps, even settle there for life.

But exactly the time when I was to pass out, my mother happened to lose both her parents.

And as a consequence, fell dangerously sick.

I packed my bags.

Kicking up all my placement offers.

And a life I’d wanted all my life.

But no regrets.

No, really, no.

There was no way I wouldn’t go back for her.

In Cal I did a standard Copy Editor’s job at The TOI, Bengal.

[ Was a writer in some capacity, alright. ]

Decent pay. Fair profile.

Living with parents. Comfortable life.

Zilch expenses. Perfect savings.

Order in the world. You know how it is.

It was then, that one unassuming day, I happened to read something.
A piece a certain Bodhisatwa Dasgupta wrote on one of our common friends (Mirna Guha’s) wall.

Just before last pujo.

A note.

And a bloody good one, at that...